I find it quite fascinating that Hemans was a forgotten and neglected female (in terms of going out of print after WWI and her resurgence in the 90s) like the majority of the women she writes about in Records of Woman. While not as chronological as Winkelman’s History of Art and Antiquity, we could see Hemans’ work as a similar tour, a “tour of woman” for her time-period.
When I first read “Properzia Rossi” for homework on Monday, I had no context. So, I did what any other 21st century scholar would do: I Googled her. de Rossi was a 16th century female sculptor in Italy, something considerably rare for the time period. It was difficult for de Rossi to make a career out of sculpting because she wasn’t from an artistic family “as were most of her female contemporaries.” While she used marble as her medium for later pieces, I found it fascinating she was recognized early in her career for her carvings of fruit pits! She created “religious scenes” out of peach, apricot, and even tiny cherry pits. Although Hemans would have no concept of the internet or how accessible knowledge is today, her text has provided a very important “record” in terms of the historical context it provides. She has filled these forgotten women, these “ghosts” with emotions, strength, and vitality, and has immortalized them.
“The Bride of the Greek Isle”:
What really struck a chord in me when I read this poem in particular was how foreboding and prominent nature was. From the very first line we have images of the woods and “ocean pale” where Eudora stood, the “bride of the morn” (17). Since we were told to view the text as a performance, or try and “experience” the poems, I had to remind myself to hold off on the highlighter J.
When performed, I imagine there would be two women on a small, natural looking stage, maybe even in a cleared area in the forest. One woman (older-maybe 30, still vital) would speak the majority of the lines in a plain outfit with strong facial features and an equally resilient presence. I’d call her the Unadorned Truth of the poem, representing authenticity; both what is there physically, and what is hidden beneath the “veil.”
Unadorned Truth is standing among the “gush of nature’s tenderness” in front of a large crowd. There is a lovely young girl beside her to act out the performance of Eudora. Eudora, who is described by Hemans as “crown’d” with jewels that “flash’d out from her braided hair” (17) is similar to the girl who performs Corinne’s “last song”, “dressed in white and crowned with flowers” (Stael 400). Hemans’ two voices seem such a contrast in the poem- the passionate, omniscient narrator, and the beautiful, adoring Eudora who speaks only during “The Bride’s Farewell.” During Corinne’s “last song” she notes a similar contrast, “There was a touching contrast between her face, so calm and sweet, a face not yet marked by life’s troubles, and the words she was about to utter” a dichotomy Corinne felt appropriately “spread a kind of serenity on the extreme gloomy thoughts of her dejected soul” (Stael 400).
Eudora is saying goodbye to her parents and home, “parts from love which hath still been true” into unknown territory with her love. This is a very feminine description of her weeping on “mother’s faithful breast” and she is very torn to leave her “sunny childhood” and asks to weep. She is proclaiming and owning her feminine identity, and pairs each memory nicely with an image of nature. What I see her performing is very similar to a scene right out of Snow White when Snow is walking and singing around all of the animals in the forest. Eudora points to the flowers “I lov’d to tend” and the moon, and it is important to note each person and the natural element Eudora associates them with. Her home is the vine and flowers, so something that continually grows and spreads, while her sister is the “olive shade” and “stream, by shore,” something moving fast yet maybe dormant, waiting. Her parents are larger, authorial figures: her father is “Eve’s bright moon” and her mother she asks, “Will earth give love like yours again?” What a beautiful tribute this is (18-19).
Once our Eudora is done speaking, she doesn't have any direct lines again, so if on a stage, I imagine Unadorned Truth would take over, her booming voice declaring
And like a slight young tree that throws
The weight of rain from its drooping boughs,
Once more she wept. But a changeful thing
Is the human heart, as a mountain spring…(19).
The lyricism of this poem is enchanting. There is strength, femininity, and vitality in this voice, acknowledging the beauty and power of nature which I see relating to the similar characteristics of our Eudora as we move to the change of the “moaning sea.”
It has been hinted throughout there may be a tragedy to come. Even from the start, Eudora’s “dark resplendent eye” and “the troubled stream,” so when we get to the description of the “moaning sea” the reader knows there is something dark lurking around the corner. Pirates! Yes- this scene is chaotic and exciting, with maidens shrieking and the youth “from the banquet to battle sprang” yet her lovely Ianthis, her betrothed, dies, “[w]ith the blood from his breast in a gushing flow/Like a child’s large tears in its hour of woe” (21). We have reached the climax of the poem, and at this point Eudora would have slowly unraveled both mentally and physically on the stage. As the narrator victoriously and painfully continues the performance, we see a “wild” change in Eudora.
Does she “rest” or just “weep?”
No, Eudora sets the ship on fire, “Fire! ‘tis fire!” and I have to admit I had to slow my reading down. Wait, fire? I thought at first she might have lit the pirate ship on fire to kill them, but then we are given this beautiful image that isn’t as feminine anymore, but rather, “her fragile form to its loftiest height” and she has “kindled her funeral pile!” (23). Here, we see
Eudora taking a stand and making a choice. Women often crumbled under pressure or unbearable sadness but we see the feminine shaped into something stronger. *When I read the notes on the page later I was struck by the Indian ritual of suttee where the "new widow" was forced to "perform self-immolation on her husband's funeral pyre." This is what we would call contextual interference- give me my moment of "freedom" Feldman! I want this scene to be heroic, because to me, it is.
The image that is lasting in my mind is of her on the deck, fire lapping up the sides of the boat, “And her veil flung back, and her free dark hair/ Sway’d by the flames as they rock and flare” (23). Wow.
As far as the experience of the performance, I was quite surprised how enjoyable I found Hemmans' poems. I'll be honest, I stayed on this poem for too long, partly because of how captivating it was. There is such ferocity in the tone that as a reader, you can imagine these strong women, especially the one I call the Unadorned Truth, relinquishing the shackles that bound them. Reading and performing these must have been freeing and empowering. It is not so much about a woman scorned, but a feminine creature seen for her strength and bravery, all while embracing her maternal and domestic. Isn't that the ideal? Even today? Eudora was ready to leave her stable, familiar home, for this risky venture to be with her love. We see her weep, but almost out of admiration and appreciation, not so much sadness or weakness. And to light herself on fire! One could only dream of a love doing something like that! What a statement!
There is still this wild image I have of her standing on the deck, black hair now flowing (no longer tight and bedazzled) around her as she is engulfed by flames and smoke. Poised, and never fearful. Free.
I'd like to contrast Eudora with Kate Chopin's "Story of an Hour" (please, no one kill me) because Mrs. Mallard was my preconceived notion of domesticity (or the feminine trapped in the domestic) before entering this class. Yes, I will admit it. I had the same sentiment Dr. Williamson described in class--the "fictionalized" viewpoint of women. Mrs. Mallard, in hearing of the death of her husband, is treated delicately, and because of her weak heart, they don't even want to tell her of the terrible news. The irony here is that she does not die from a broken heart, but in finding out he isn't dead after all. Mrs. Mallard has this moment of "freedom" from domesticity in a different way. She is entranced and captivated in a "sudden, wild abandonment" and sees his death as being "free." We can of course look at the level of domesticity Eudora was exposed to versus Mrs. Mallard but I feel the sentiment Hemmans is expressing is the same: She wants the freedom and terror and tragedy to take a different form--one that is both productive and freeing.
One thing to note are the subtle objects she places within the reader’s grasp:**
"Pearls on her bosom” (17) Pearls represent years of toil and struggle to create the beautiful. The oyster layers a grain of sand in order to make it less harsh and painful--and somehow, creates a beautiful and valuable pearl.
“Like a swan midst the reeds of a shadowy stream” (19) Swans are known to mate for life, and although silent their entire life often belt out a haunting cry before death, also known as the “swan song” (taken from Greek mythology).
Could we see Hemmans' collection as a "swan song" of sorts for both the women and the reader?
When I first read “Properzia Rossi” for homework on Monday, I had no context. So, I did what any other 21st century scholar would do: I Googled her. de Rossi was a 16th century female sculptor in Italy, something considerably rare for the time period. It was difficult for de Rossi to make a career out of sculpting because she wasn’t from an artistic family “as were most of her female contemporaries.” While she used marble as her medium for later pieces, I found it fascinating she was recognized early in her career for her carvings of fruit pits! She created “religious scenes” out of peach, apricot, and even tiny cherry pits. Although Hemans would have no concept of the internet or how accessible knowledge is today, her text has provided a very important “record” in terms of the historical context it provides. She has filled these forgotten women, these “ghosts” with emotions, strength, and vitality, and has immortalized them.
“The Bride of the Greek Isle”:
What really struck a chord in me when I read this poem in particular was how foreboding and prominent nature was. From the very first line we have images of the woods and “ocean pale” where Eudora stood, the “bride of the morn” (17). Since we were told to view the text as a performance, or try and “experience” the poems, I had to remind myself to hold off on the highlighter J.When performed, I imagine there would be two women on a small, natural looking stage, maybe even in a cleared area in the forest. One woman (older-maybe 30, still vital) would speak the majority of the lines in a plain outfit with strong facial features and an equally resilient presence. I’d call her the Unadorned Truth of the poem, representing authenticity; both what is there physically, and what is hidden beneath the “veil.”
Unadorned Truth is standing among the “gush of nature’s tenderness” in front of a large crowd. There is a lovely young girl beside her to act out the performance of Eudora. Eudora, who is described by Hemans as “crown’d” with jewels that “flash’d out from her braided hair” (17) is similar to the girl who performs Corinne’s “last song”, “dressed in white and crowned with flowers” (Stael 400). Hemans’ two voices seem such a contrast in the poem- the passionate, omniscient narrator, and the beautiful, adoring Eudora who speaks only during “The Bride’s Farewell.” During Corinne’s “last song” she notes a similar contrast, “There was a touching contrast between her face, so calm and sweet, a face not yet marked by life’s troubles, and the words she was about to utter” a dichotomy Corinne felt appropriately “spread a kind of serenity on the extreme gloomy thoughts of her dejected soul” (Stael 400).
Eudora is saying goodbye to her parents and home, “parts from love which hath still been true” into unknown territory with her love. This is a very feminine description of her weeping on “mother’s faithful breast” and she is very torn to leave her “sunny childhood” and asks to weep. She is proclaiming and owning her feminine identity, and pairs each memory nicely with an image of nature. What I see her performing is very similar to a scene right out of Snow White when Snow is walking and singing around all of the animals in the forest. Eudora points to the flowers “I lov’d to tend” and the moon, and it is important to note each person and the natural element Eudora associates them with. Her home is the vine and flowers, so something that continually grows and spreads, while her sister is the “olive shade” and “stream, by shore,” something moving fast yet maybe dormant, waiting. Her parents are larger, authorial figures: her father is “Eve’s bright moon” and her mother she asks, “Will earth give love like yours again?” What a beautiful tribute this is (18-19).
Once our Eudora is done speaking, she doesn't have any direct lines again, so if on a stage, I imagine Unadorned Truth would take over, her booming voice declaring
And like a slight young tree that throws
The weight of rain from its drooping boughs,
Once more she wept. But a changeful thing
Is the human heart, as a mountain spring…(19).
The lyricism of this poem is enchanting. There is strength, femininity, and vitality in this voice, acknowledging the beauty and power of nature which I see relating to the similar characteristics of our Eudora as we move to the change of the “moaning sea.”
It has been hinted throughout there may be a tragedy to come. Even from the start, Eudora’s “dark resplendent eye” and “the troubled stream,” so when we get to the description of the “moaning sea” the reader knows there is something dark lurking around the corner. Pirates! Yes- this scene is chaotic and exciting, with maidens shrieking and the youth “from the banquet to battle sprang” yet her lovely Ianthis, her betrothed, dies, “[w]ith the blood from his breast in a gushing flow/Like a child’s large tears in its hour of woe” (21). We have reached the climax of the poem, and at this point Eudora would have slowly unraveled both mentally and physically on the stage. As the narrator victoriously and painfully continues the performance, we see a “wild” change in Eudora.
Does she “rest” or just “weep?”
No, Eudora sets the ship on fire, “Fire! ‘tis fire!” and I have to admit I had to slow my reading down. Wait, fire? I thought at first she might have lit the pirate ship on fire to kill them, but then we are given this beautiful image that isn’t as feminine anymore, but rather, “her fragile form to its loftiest height” and she has “kindled her funeral pile!” (23). Here, we see
Eudora taking a stand and making a choice. Women often crumbled under pressure or unbearable sadness but we see the feminine shaped into something stronger. *When I read the notes on the page later I was struck by the Indian ritual of suttee where the "new widow" was forced to "perform self-immolation on her husband's funeral pyre." This is what we would call contextual interference- give me my moment of "freedom" Feldman! I want this scene to be heroic, because to me, it is.
The image that is lasting in my mind is of her on the deck, fire lapping up the sides of the boat, “And her veil flung back, and her free dark hair/ Sway’d by the flames as they rock and flare” (23). Wow.
As far as the experience of the performance, I was quite surprised how enjoyable I found Hemmans' poems. I'll be honest, I stayed on this poem for too long, partly because of how captivating it was. There is such ferocity in the tone that as a reader, you can imagine these strong women, especially the one I call the Unadorned Truth, relinquishing the shackles that bound them. Reading and performing these must have been freeing and empowering. It is not so much about a woman scorned, but a feminine creature seen for her strength and bravery, all while embracing her maternal and domestic. Isn't that the ideal? Even today? Eudora was ready to leave her stable, familiar home, for this risky venture to be with her love. We see her weep, but almost out of admiration and appreciation, not so much sadness or weakness. And to light herself on fire! One could only dream of a love doing something like that! What a statement!
There is still this wild image I have of her standing on the deck, black hair now flowing (no longer tight and bedazzled) around her as she is engulfed by flames and smoke. Poised, and never fearful. Free.
I'd like to contrast Eudora with Kate Chopin's "Story of an Hour" (please, no one kill me) because Mrs. Mallard was my preconceived notion of domesticity (or the feminine trapped in the domestic) before entering this class. Yes, I will admit it. I had the same sentiment Dr. Williamson described in class--the "fictionalized" viewpoint of women. Mrs. Mallard, in hearing of the death of her husband, is treated delicately, and because of her weak heart, they don't even want to tell her of the terrible news. The irony here is that she does not die from a broken heart, but in finding out he isn't dead after all. Mrs. Mallard has this moment of "freedom" from domesticity in a different way. She is entranced and captivated in a "sudden, wild abandonment" and sees his death as being "free." We can of course look at the level of domesticity Eudora was exposed to versus Mrs. Mallard but I feel the sentiment Hemmans is expressing is the same: She wants the freedom and terror and tragedy to take a different form--one that is both productive and freeing.
One thing to note are the subtle objects she places within the reader’s grasp:**
"Pearls on her bosom” (17) Pearls represent years of toil and struggle to create the beautiful. The oyster layers a grain of sand in order to make it less harsh and painful--and somehow, creates a beautiful and valuable pearl.
“Like a swan midst the reeds of a shadowy stream” (19) Swans are known to mate for life, and although silent their entire life often belt out a haunting cry before death, also known as the “swan song” (taken from Greek mythology).
Could we see Hemmans' collection as a "swan song" of sorts for both the women and the reader?